by Stone, C. L.
“Where are we going?” I asked. I mean I knew the general plan, but didn’t have a clue what his intentions were.
“I’m going to find your brother and let him know you’re safe.”
My mouth fell open at his suggestion. One look at his hulking figure and tattoos and I had a sudden vision of how well that would go down.
He side glanced me. “What?”
“Oh, nothing. It’s just you look like you’re part of the Russian mafia and if you walk up to him and say ‘she’s safe’, you’re going to make him think you’re holding me for hostage money.”
He grunted. “What am I supposed to do? Send him flowers? Butter him up?”
“Can’t I talk to him?”
“It’s best if you’re not seen together right now. If anyone comes asking for you, he can honestly say he hasn’t seen you for a while. You should be back at the apartment but you need to stay near me.”
I breathed in deep and exhaled slowly. South Carolina dampness and car exhaust filled my lungs. I coughed. It was mid-morning, so the traffic made no sense. Why wasn’t everyone at work by now? “What if I left a note?”
“Where?”
“At the hotel. I could leave a note in the room.”
“You shouldn’t go near the hotel.”
“Why?”
“Same reason. No one to say they’ve seen you recently.”
“How would he know if I lived there?” I grumbled. They were making a lot of assumptions about this guy and what he could do. Coaltar met me yesterday. What did he know about me? Did he stalk every girl at his party? “What if I wrote a note and you took it to the room?”
He thumped his fingers over the steering wheel. “You can’t tell him where you are.”
“What can I say?”
He shrugged. “Tell him you’ve eloped with a handsome Russian.” He leaned on the door, angling to see around the row of cars. He pounded at his horn but despite the effort, the line didn’t move.
I snorted. “Me? Get married? I may as well tell him I sprouted wings.”
He leaned forward, digging his cell phone out of his pocket. “Tell him now. We won’t have to bother him later when we get around to it.”
I thought he was joking so I shook it off. “Where’s a pen?”
He gestured to the glove compartment while he was still buried in his phone.
I found a small notebook and a couple of pens, along with binoculars, and a pocket knife. Spy stuff. I wanted to dig further but wanted to get the note out of the way so I closed it up.
I was just telling Wil in the note that I was fine when Raven shifted gears and started cutting off to the right, driving along the shoulder. Part of the truck ended up in the grass. I gripped the suicide handle to keep from knocking my head into things. “What are you doing?”
“Going around,” he said. “This goes on for miles. Out past Summerville.”
“Why?” I asked. “Bad wreck?"
“Yeah, bad wreck,” he said. “The police fucked up. There’s a threat at one of the schools that called in the bomb squad. The responding officers cut off some people driving on the highway and there’s a ten car pileup down there.”
“Which school has the bomb threat?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
I shrugged. “Happened a lot at my old school,” I said. “There’s never a bomb. It’s just a stupid kid calling it in to get out of class. Which was nice. Usually stalled things at school for a few hours.”
“Probably lucky,” he said. “In Russia, they wouldn’t have called anything off. You fend for yourself. And the kid wouldn’t be bluffing. He probably wouldn’t have even called ahead.” He pulled the truck onto an off-ramp, weaving his way around other cars also trying to get off the road. He cut in front of an old lady in a clunker and made a left onto a main road.
My heart thundered in my chest as he drove. He muscled his way between two cars to cross the street. “Did you learn to drive in Russia, too?” I asked.
“What does it matter?”
“Just wondering.”
♠♠♠♠♠
It took another half hour to get to the hotel going through side streets. By then I was grumpy from not having eaten breakfast. I did my best to bite my lip and keep quiet. Now that I didn’t have a dime on me, I couldn’t afford a meal and didn’t want to beg.
As soon as we were within sight of the hotel, Raven lifted the center console and reached for my arm. He gripped it in his big hand tight enough to cut off the circulation for a moment, tugging me sideways. “Lay your head down,” he said. “I don’t want anyone seeing you.”
I did as he said, but as my head landed by his hip, he put his hand on my hair. His fingers threaded through my hair and he massaged my scalp.
I slapped him on the wrist hard enough that my own hand tingled. “Stop,” I said.
“What?”
“I’m not a puppy.”
He grunted. “Will you just stay in the truck? I’ll deal with you in a minute. Where’s your note?”
I held it out to him, and dug out my room key card. “221B. And do me a favor and grab the gray book bag. I may as well get my clothes.”
He waved me off, parked the truck and stepped out. He pointed a broad finger at me. “Stay.” He slammed the door before I could remind him I wasn’t a puppy.
I sighed, moving onto my back to stare up at the ceiling of the truck. So close. I wondered how Wil was doing. I told him in the note that I’d be gone at a new job that required me to be there overnight. I explained that was how I got the money for the hotel room. I told him we’d probably miss each other as I was only off while he was at school. I wondered if he could tell I was lying simply by writing. At least it would seem like I’d been there.
I missed him already and hoped Jack wasn't giving him too many problems. I hoped he wouldn't do anything stupid. I rolled over onto my side, tracing the grooves of the seat with my fingertips. Was I making the right choice to stick with the guys? Or was I giving in because I was curious about them?
A knock at the truck window made me think Raven was back. Maybe he forgot the room number. I sat up.
A man’s gnarled face was pressed to the passenger side window. He squinted in at me. “You okay?” he asked.
One of the random residents. Was he walking by to get to one of the other trucks parked in the lot? I tried to hold back an eye roll. So much for not being seen. I nodded, waving him off and hoping he’d go away.
He made a motion to roll down the window. “Hey, let me talk to you for a second.” There was a weary look in his eyes. I’d seen it before on these guys. Lonely and willing to risk a rape charge to get his dick in any hole he could find. Possibly mentally insane.
I mustered an angry glare and flashed my middle finger. “Go away.”
He seemed oblivious to this. His hand slid down in front of his body, and from the angle, I could tell he was rubbing himself. “Open the door. I won’t hurt you. Did you need a room?”
I started shaking my head when his hand shifted again. I thought he was going to pull down his pants, maybe step back and show me his wilted willy. Instead, he reached for the door handle.
I realized in horror that Raven hadn’t locked the door. I lunged for it, but he already had the door handle open. I grabbed for the handle, yanking back hard, but he drew back his fingers before I had the chance to smash them in the door.
A booming shout erupted: “Morgaly vikalyu, padla! Ebanatyi pidaraz!”
I didn’t know a lick of Russian, but I knew angry cursing when I heard it.
A fist smashed against the man’s chin. There was a thick thud sound. The old man fell like a lump to the blacktop.
Raven positioned himself between the truck door and the guy on the ground. “Get up, motherfucker.” He waved his fist at him. His shoulders appeared to have increased in size. The muscles in his bicep strained against the fabric of his T-shirt. The tribal and rose tattoos danced across his skin as he flexed.
/>
In a moment of weakness, I thought about that morning with him shirtless and on top of me. And now he was defending me from bad guys. I felt the pull of visceral excitement as Raven defended my honor. The wild, crazed look in his eyes, the ruthless way he glared, the powerful stance like he was about to rip the guy in two, it was overwhelmingly erotic.
The old guy wriggled on his back, cowering, caging his arms over his head in defense. When it was clear he wasn’t getting up, Raven spat at him and opened the passenger side door.
“Why’d you let him open the door?” he thundered at me.
He was going to blame this on me? Way to burst my fantasy bubble. “I didn’t let him! You forgot to lock it.”
He grunted, backed up and smashed the door back into place. He picked up two book bags off the ground. He jogged around, opening the driver’s side door and shoved them in the back seat. He hauled himself in and we were back on the road in minutes.
I looked back. The man had rolled into sitting up, holding his head. At least he wasn’t dead.
♠♠♠♠♠
Raven started taking city roads back into Charleston. I glared out the window, wondering if anyone had seen us or if someone was calling the cops because of the fight in the parking lot.
Once we were a good distance away, and there were no sirens, I sat back, glancing over at Raven. He flexed his right hand over and over on the steering wheel.
“Is your hand okay?” I asked, trying to sound softer. He did save me, after all.
His brows furrowed, he drove with his left hand, holding out his right. He flexed it in front of me. There were a few dry cuts and some redness but nothing looked out of place. “Nothing broken,” he said in a low tone.
I stretched out, taking it between my palms. His arm muscles tensed. I wasn’t sure if I was hurting him or if he thought I was going to hit him.
I pressed my lips to the back of his hand quietly and kissed at his knuckle. “Thank you,” I said, hoping I sounded as sincere as I felt.
His brow lifted. “For what?”
“For helping me with Wil. And for beating up that jerk.” I meant it. Despite me having given him such a rough time, he went out of his way to help me do what I needed to do. I wanted him to know I appreciated it. Not a lot of people would do that, not for someone like me.
He took his hand back, and for a moment I thought he was going to tell me off.
His fingers cupped my face, the thumb sliding across my cheekbone. Slowly. The edge of his thumbnail traced against my skin, causing a gentle shiver along my spine. He gazed at me, longer than he should have kept his eyes off the road. He didn’t say anything, just stared.
I swallowed, uncomfortable. I tried to come up with something to break the tension. “Are we going back to the apartment?” I asked.
“Did you still want to talk to Axel?” he asked. He took his hand back and looked at the road again. “I should relieve him, anyway.”
“Where is he?”
“At the gun range.”
“Did he take all those guns and bullets you prepped yesterday?”
“Yeah. October is good weather for training. Not overly hot.”
Part of me wanted to start hunting for a job and hurry along. I still didn’t feel like I deserved time off. What else could I do? “Will you let me shoot a gun?”
He smirked, and the car sped up as his foot dropped on the gas pedal. “If there’s any bullets left.”
INSIDE THE ACADEMY
On our way to the range, I dug through the two book bags, thankful that Raven managed to grab the two that were mine. I guessed Jack wasn’t there or was asleep. Leaving the note would have to do for now until I could think up some other way of letting Wil know I was okay.
I was kind of embarrassed about Raven seeing the place. Would he notice I had to sleep in the same bed as Wil? Since he didn’t say anything, I tried not to let it bother me.
I dug out a pair of jean cutoff shorts, a better fitting T-shirt, and a pair of clean underwear and a bra. I’d been wearing the ones I had on a little too long. I shoved my hands through the sleeves of Marc’s shirt and started undoing my bra underneath.
Raven slid glances at me. “What are you doing?”
“Changing. Keep your eyes on the road.”
He turned his head, staring straight ahead. One of the cool things about being a girl is you learn early on how to change your clothes completely in public without revealing anything. I managed to weave the bra out from a sleeve without removing the shirt, and put another one on. I slipped off the old shorts, and the underwear, slipped new underwear and shorts on without revealing much other than my thighs. After that, I felt pretty covered so I just removed the shirt. I put the other one on and smoothed the T-shirt over my body. It had a slight V-neck to it and fit better around the waist. Boy shirts were cool, but mostly for lounging around the house.
Raven grumbled. “Why are you doing that here? There’s people watching.”
“There’s only you watching and no one else cares. And you should be paying attention to the road.”
“This is why that guy back there was hanging on your door. You can’t even sit in a truck without causing problems.”
“You can drop me off back at the hotel. Seriously. Any time you want to get rid of me. Or drop me off here. I can walk.”
He glared out the windshield. “Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
Raven paid for four Big Macs, two large fries, a Coke and a milkshake, of which I ate one and a half Big Macs, one of the large fries and some stolen from his box until he smacked my forearm to ward me off, and the milkshake. He ate the other half of the second hamburger before I got to it.
By the time my brain pulled itself together after eating, we were on a country road. Even for October, the envelope of greenery surrounded us, making it feel more like an alleyway inside a forest. It was a quiet back road, only one car passed us maybe every couple of miles.
“Where are we?” I asked.
“We’re getting close.”
Around the next turn, a white wood sign came into view. It had faded black lettering: SCPO Shooting Range, Closed to the Public Today.
“They’re closed,” I said.
“It’s closed because there’s training.”
“What’s the letters?” I asked, but after a moment when he didn’t answer, I started guessing. “Is that South Carolina Police Officer or something like that? Is that what the initials stand for?”
“Yeah.”
“So you do work for the police?”
“No.”
“How are you using their gun range when it’s closed to the public?”
“We’re friendly with the police, but they don’t know who we are.” He turned onto the gravel road. “I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell them.”
“Would you get in trouble?”
“I’d get in trouble and I’d take you down with me.”
Oh boy.
Despite being with Raven, it made me nervous to be crossing into any territory that was considered police property. The gravel road continued for about a mile and then shifted to the left another quarter mile. He drove up to an open gate. Hanging wide open. Anyone could walk in if they’d found the road. I didn’t see any security monitoring the entrance. I guessed they didn’t figure they needed to really keep anyone out. No one would be stupid enough to invade a police shooting range.
The property was surrounded by barbed wire fence. The whole area might have been two acres, surrounded by trees. I supposed that’s how they kept it safe, a great distance of trees made sure they wouldn’t accidentally shoot anyone.
There was a blue building with a white roof planted in the middle of the property. Behind it was a brick wall, about head height. There was a gray shed nearby, and from the gravel parking lot, there was a row of short distance ranges, about twelve in a row, near the blue building. A long hill of dirt ran down the far side of the range, and this was covered in c
arpets against the slopes. An additional bullet barrier?
I jumped out the moment Raven parked. I was about to comment that it was quiet when a smattering of gunfire filled the air. I snapped my head around, spotting a row of guys each taking up a space at the short distance rage. I could only see their backs, but they had their arms up, aiming different pistols at targets hanging in front of the carpets on the back of the range. Targets were held up on wood poles. Each of the guys shooting wore blue ear protection. They focused, shooting the target, the bullets zinging through the paper and into the carpet pieces.
Raven marched forward, motioning for me to follow. We swayed to the left, toward the blue building. There was a covered concrete porch in the front, with picnic tables set up underneath the awning. The white doors to the building were closed, but there was a wide window to the right and there was a light on somewhere inside. From my angle, I couldn’t see anything inside the window, just part of the corner from an inside wall. I didn’t know if anyone was inside.
Raven sat down at one of the picnic benches that was closest to the boys, leaning back on his elbows so his chest puffed out. I dropped down next to him. We were still a short distance from the gun shooting, but I tensed at the sound of gunfire and wondered if I should worry about my ears.
Now that we were closer to the boys, I could see they were younger, maybe around fourteen.
I leaned into Raven’s shoulder with my own. “Are these ... uh ... the people I’m not supposed to talk about? Are they your...”
“Yeah,” he said. He leaned back into me, but stretched his arm around until he was resting on the table behind me and pointed with his other hand. “Today, they’re getting a feel of different models of guns, from twenty two calibers up to forty five. After this, they’ll have an idea of the difference. How they look. How they feel. The sound differences.”
“They’re young,” I said. “Is this necessary?”
“Have to know what the bad guys know,” he said. “Hopefully more.”
We watched for a while. It took a minute for me to spot Axel, who was on the far side, standing and studying the boys vigilantly. He wore black jeans and boots and an olive short sleeve button up shirt. Part of his collarbone peeked out from the open buttons of the collar. A lock of his black hair framed the side of his face and teased his chin. He was wearing those dark-framed glasses again. With his high cheekbones, and intense stare, he was the quiet strength amid what otherwise felt like chaos to me.
